My 'Once We Were Here' series flew from Corden|Potts gallery in San Francisco to FILTER gallery in Chicago. They will be there until the end of the month. And it looks great: big THANK YOU to the FILTER team for the wonderful job they did!

Did you miss the opening? Or want to immerse yourself into the images again? No problem! Join me this coming Thursday at my show at Corden|Potts gallery (Suite 405, 49 Geary, San Francisco) from 5:00 to 8:00 PM.

Another piece of my new series (Dis)Connected going out into the world: 'Make Believe' will be heading to the Yeser Art Center in Paducah (Kentucky) for the 'Art Through The Lens' show: https://www.theyeiser.org/gallery/

I am becoming jealous of my own work: it is travelling more than me!

About the series:

This series is thus based on the idea that the current sense of disenfranchisement derives from the fundamental disconnect we have from the natural world and the social isolation that comes with it. In turn, the perception of the natural environment as something external drives our uses and abuses of environmental resources.

'Once We Were Here' Opening at Corden|Potts

Reception September 7, 5:30 to 7:30 pm

Please join us on Thursday, September 7 between 5:30 and 7:30 pm to celebrate the opening of our new exhibit, Once We Were Here, the work of photographer Nicolò Sertorio.

The exhibit will run from September 7 through October 21.

Speaking about Once We Were Here, Nicolò says his intent is to show the viewer a hypothetical world where humanity's insatiable consumption has led to a landscape where humanity has disappeared and only nature remains.

Presented as an archeological study on the nature of co-existence, it is Nicolò's hope that we can still assume both global and individual responsibility; that we can still change our path forward.

Nicolò Sertorio is an award-winning, internationally exhibited artist with over 15 years of experience in visual storytelling.

He works in fine art and commercial photography, mixed media, collaboration, and conceptual art. His photographs directly respond to the surrounding environment by emphasizing the aesthetics of everyday experiences. A disconcerting beauty emerges from the multiple layers of Nicolò's dramatic meaning.

Nicolò currently lives and works in Oakland. He is president of the Northern California chapter of American Society of Media Photographers (ASMP).

Some projects take months of planning. Some projects require conscious effort and execution. And some projects happen almost before the artist even realizes that inspiration has taken hold. I did not intend for ‘The People I Met Last Year’ to become the resonating force that it is now. In fact, I did not intend for it to be anything. And yet, it manifested itself through my lens as a social study on the complex linked matrix that is the human existence

Over the twelve months that I spent trekking along the Northern Croatian border on the Drava River to the Adriatic Sea photographing sweeping landscapes, historic castles and roads, I discovered the real purpose for my travels. I realized that it wasn’t the setting of the photographs, but rather the people who defined those settings, changed them and influenced them. So, I took the time to simply approached strangers and asked to take their portrait. These impromptu photoshoots occasionally turned into longer conversations, interactions and friendships. More often, though, these encounters came and went with the blink of my camera lens.

My original goal was to put together a strong portrait series. In the end, though, I realized that the project went much deeper than that–it revealed people as incredibly distinct, multilayered individuals who create their own stories and yet live connected by a few degrees. Moving forward, my approach to people as a subject of photography was derived from my fascination by what makes us the same. Personally, the energy I encountered in each person gave me the chance to reflect on his life and understand purpose as an artist.

Perhaps the project suggests that we all are immigrants at one point in our life. We are all outsiders. And yet, every person has dignity in his or her identity as a human. We are, indeed, connected. In the end, everything has been affected by everything else: people, objects, and ideas.

SUMMER 2017

Ever since its debut at Open Show at SF Cameraworks gallery in San Francisco in May, '(Dis)Connected' has been incredibly well received. The collection is currently part of five different group shows in five different galleries and museums (notably the KlompChing Gallery in Brooklyn, New York)–all running concurrently through the summer.

I am, in a word, delighted. I am also eagerly anticipating where and how this passion project will engage communities and allow for for discussion in the greater art world.

As '(Dis)Connected' is indeed for sale, I encourage collectors, museums and galleries to see this show as an opportunity. I welcome those who, like myself, resonate with socially engaged art to consider purchasing a part or all of '(Dis)Connected' as a way to meaningfully interact with these concepts. For museums and galleries, the show is a chance for viewers to interact with socially engaged art; it takes the very contemporary issue of disenfranchisement and disconnect to that other dimension where art and real life collide.

We want to make sure you get a chance to come and have a look: the show will be up in the heart of San Francisco (49 Geary), from September 7th to October 28th.

Also, please do mark your calendars for the artist reception on Thursday September 7th 5:30-7:30 PM.

About the series:

I experience the context for the work as presenting the viewer with a world where humanity’s need for insatiable consumption has led it to the ultimate consumption, that of the consumption of the self. From this point we are brought to a world where humanity has disappeared and only nature remains, in its solemness. Nature has endured and now overcome the weight of humanity’s selfish behaviours and we are reunited with nature’s beauty and mystery.

Presented as a hypothetical archeological study on the nature of co-existence, it is my hope that we can still assume both global and individual responsibility, that we can still change our path forward.

"When we hear about compassion, it naturally brings up working withothers, caring for others. The reason we're often not there for othersis that we are not there for ourselves. There are whole parts ofourselves that are so unwanted that whenever they begin to come up werun away....Only to the degree that we've gotten to know our personal pain, only tothe degree that we've related with pain at all, will we be fearlessenough, brave enough, and enough of a warrior to be willing to feel thepain of others. To that degree we will be able to take on the pain ofothers because we will have discovered that their pain and our pain are not different.However, to do this, we need all the help we can get."

It all started with an apparently simple question: 'Who am I?'. Being in India, I could not stop at just my name and country of origin, so it got me thinking a little bit. We perceive reality through our five senses. Certain combination of sensory perceptions are then associated to certain objects or phenomena. Heat and flickering yellow light and a certain odor is something we might want to avoid, a small red round object with a certain smell and taste is something we might eat. Those objects are associated to primordial emotions: fear, or craving. As we grow up we learn to associate conventional labels to those objects: fire, apple. Those labels are passed to us by parents and teachers, which in turn received them from the group or society they belong to. As such, our perception of reality is already 'tainted' by the group we belong to (e.g.: Eskimos having 22 labels for what we call 'snow' in English).

The first level of definition of the self is thus through the senses: what gives me a sensory input is not me, therefore the part that receives the sensation is me. But the interaction with those that have provided us with labels for objects is not limited to pointing at those objects. We also receive information about the characteristics of those objects, required actions, and so on: avoid the fire, eat the apple, or don't eat the apple. Concepts (we can imagine the apple also when it is not in front of us), thoughts.

The second level of definition of the self is through thoughts: YOU are telling ME not to eat the apple. Body and mind. We then create conceptual, abstract thoughts: good and bad, beautiful and ugly, smart and stupid, etc.

If someone tells me that I am stupid, a third level of definition of the self gets offended: the Ego. So why do Buddhists and psychologists and books tell us to reduce or eliminate this Ego?

I think that since the Ego does not really exist (it is a concept, an abstraction), we need to get continuous confirmation from others: I am beautiful, good, smart. So we crave for positive reinforcement more and more to reinforce this perceived sense of identity, which in turn becomes our 'meaning', or the reason for our existence. Similarly, when you told me that I was stupid, you told me that my Ego was of poor quality. As I want it to be good and I cannot deny it, I deny you: I dislike you, I get angry, I avoid you or attack you. Aversions also reinforce the Ego, as they implicitly assume its existence. In a vicious circle, cravings and aversions create our own misery and suffering. We try to avoid something (e.g.: pain), but it comes or happens anyway (e.g.: sickness, accidents, aging, etc.). We try to get something (e.g.: sexual pleasure, nice car) and are unhappy until we get it.

And even when we do get it, it does not last (we loose the erection, the car ages and breaks down). So we try something else: 'love' (someone to tell us we are great all the time), power (many telling us we are great), wealth (we can get more 'things'), success (many telling us we are smart), babies (replicate our own image). But on the long term this does not work either, fleeting like snow melting in our hands.

We identify ourselves and others through our job, sex, religion, age, place, name. But we are none.This is when we need to pull out the 'spiritual' card. Love as the desire for someone else's happiness, compassion, Nirvana, God (or Gods), bliss, separate realities. Things do not get easier: it becomes even harder to have direct experience, and we cannot rely on religions as they have all been tampered, misunderstood, abused. Abraham trying to kill his own son? The original sin to make us feel guilty for our natural sexual instincts? Reincarnation? Jewish killing Muslims? Muslims killing Catholics? Catholics killing Muslims? Gods with elephant heads? Invisible jealous semi-gods? Red devils playing with fire and bearded old men playing with winged babies? Holy cows? Houses of gods covered in gold? The list is endless. Extremists, blind rituals, ignorance, usurpers have clouded my own path with fear, skepticism, disbelieve, disappointment.

Nevertheless, sometimes the fog lifts off for a brief moment and I get glimpses of truth and eternity. So I keep walking. What other choice do I have anyway?

After a few weeks of gompa visits on a rented motorcycle, I decide I have had enough nose bleeding and am ready to head to lower pastures. This means a full day sorting through contradicting and misleading information on just what forms of transportation are available to go from Leh to Manali. Eventually it will become clear that a shared Maruti jeep is the only motorized vehicle going down that way.

2 AM start for a planned 16 hours drive. We reach the 2nd highest pass in the world (5,300 m) just before sunrise. It is snowing; it is really cold, especially since our driver insists on keeping his window open all the time! We drive all morning up and down passes, always at about 4,500/5,000 m. In the early afternoon we finally descend to the little village of Darcha, some ¾ of the way. Here, the bridge over the enraged river swollen with over a meter depth of silver/gray water has collapsed.

There are about 50 jeeps and an equal number of trucks on either side of the river. All the drivers sit together, drink chai, smoke, and chat about alternatives. The chatting unfortunately goes on until sunset, so we have to spend the night in the kitchen of the local Tibetan restaurant. At 5 AM next morning I decide to take matters in my own hands, cross the river on the back of a tractor, and catch the local bus on the other side.

Considering that everybody else is stuck, it makes for a very pleasant ride in an empty bus until Keylong. The next bus is a different story, cramped beyond human limits. I am very happy when I reach Manali under pouring rain, some 40 hours after I started my journey.